


the day after we break up

by lollarissa



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader has a red soul, Resets, deathhh, it's mine though don't worry, like a metric fuckton, this was originally submitted to tyranttortoise on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 23:12:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13774605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollarissa/pseuds/lollarissa
Summary: or technically, the days we broke up.in which sans ends the relationship, but it doesn't go the way anyone wants it to.-i originally submitted this to tyranttortoise on tumblr! thought i'd post it here, so all of my stuff are in one place. hope you like it!





	the day after we break up

"Sans? Are you listening?"

"'course i am, doll, whaddaya take me for?"

But he wasn't of course. Not even a little bit. The sky was clear, shimmering with stars, and the park was almost completely devoid of people save for the two of you. His eye sockets were looking far, far away, and your voice halted. He obviously didn't care. You looked down at the cup of coffee in your hands, suddenly feeling small. You fiddled with the cup, watching the liquid sloshing around inside. You felt like you were choking, but you took a deep breath and forced back the sudden onslaught of sadness.

Birds were singing, flowers were blooming; it really was a beautiful day, and now that the sun had set, it was an even more beautiful night. A pity-- you can't think about anything else other than the heaviness in your chest, and the overwhelming grief that he was going to leave you soon. He hadn't said anything directly, but you could see it, clear as day.

He shied away from your kisses, responded with nods whenever you said you loved him, and you knew that it was just a matter of time until it all ends. You always thought that you had more time, that maybe something would come up and he would change his mind, but something told you that today is the day it ends, that today is the last day he'll be yours, and you, his. 

You stood up abruptly, dusting off your pants. He glanced up at you in surprise, before standing up as well. "what is it?" He asked, not even looking at you. 

Stars, it hurt. 

You pressed your hand to his cheek, gently tilting his face so his eyes could meet yours. You smiled and kissed him, eyelids fluttering shut as you felt him leaning into you. You broke away with a sigh, as you kissed him on the cheek and stepped back. 

There was clear conflict in his eyes, and part of you didn't want him to end it just yet, yet part of you also wanted him to end it now, to rip the plaster off so you could begin healing. Your heart was pounding in your chest as your eyes desperately flicked over his appearance, greedily taking in every detail, knowing that this might be the last time you'll drink him in and know that his smile was meant for you. The silver of the zipper of his hoodie shown in the light, his red shirt just barely seen from under it. Red, dark red, only barely darker than the color of your soul when he had pulled it out and showed you. it means determination, he had said after you asked if colors had meaning. _i wonder what you're determined for,_ he added, before kissing you with wild abandon, until all thoughts of your soul fled from your mind.

But what good was your determination now, if you couldn't even convince him to stay?

"doll, sweetheart, i'm sorry."

Oh. Here it comes. You were actually expecting that he'd change his mind at the last second, like he'd done so many times. Seems like this really is it. 

You forced yourself to look up, taking deep breaths, pushing the tears back. Not now. Not yet. You'll cry, you'll grieve, but not now. Not while he can still see you. 

"you and i both know, that this," he motioned, dragging his finger from you to him. "it just ain't workin' anymore. i don't wanna keep lying to myself and say that the reason why i'm staying is because i still love you, because i don't. not anymore."

Oh shit. Oh shit. The tears welled up in your eyes and you nodded. (Also, what the fuck did he just say?) You knew that for some time now, but hearing it from him made it real and so, so painful. Your breathing was now completely erratic, and you nodded, unable to use your words properly. You felt the cool breeze sting your now wet cheeks, tears steaming down. When did you start crying? 

"sweet- (y/n), hey, please don't cry." His voice was tinged with panic, but he knew he couldn't drag this out for any longer without hurting you more. 

If he was going to be honest, he hasn't loved you for a long time now. Four years seemed like an eternity to some, and even more so to him.

It was a gradual thing. He didn't just wake up one day and think, hey, i don't love you anymore. No. Eventually, you stopped being so important to him, your name on his list of priorities slowly sinking. 

He always told himself that he'd stay for one last time, and leave in the morning, but he kept breaking his word. 

But now he'd do it. He just needed to courage to see it through until the end, to wipe your tears and say that everything would be fine; he owed you at least that much. Now however, that small amount of courage he had earlier was quickly dissipating in the presence of your wide eyes and your tear-stained cheeks. He looked away. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but he didn't hear whatever it was, because he teleported away like an asshole. 

He knew that. But it didn't stop him. An hour later, the world faded away. 

He opened his eyes and you were in his arms, tangled up in his bed. 

A load. A fucking load. Just his fucking luck. Why now? Why today? What the fuck, Frisk? 

He let the day continue, broke up with you again, then walked around. A good hour had passed since he left, and he sat on an empty bench, relishing the sudden sense of freedom he felt. He felt frustration rise in him as the stars faded to black once more and he woke up in bed again. 

He pushed you off and started yelling. That might be the harshest way he'd broken up with you, but it got the job done, with you running out the house crying, as his brother glared at him from across the table during breakfast. It was no secret that Papyrus was especially fond of you, as you had humored his cooking style and occasionally joined work outs with him and Undyne. He didn't say anything though, only glaring at him disappointedly, even as he made his way out of the house. 

Night came faster than he anticipated, and he decided to watch the television. There were reruns of your favorite show airing, and his thoughts drifted to you. He found that he didn't care. 

The clock shifted to 8:27, and the world reset once more. 

-

How long has it been? It felt like it's been a month since everything constantly reset, a month since he started teleporting out of bed the moment he woke up. He started breaking up with you through text now, and you would never respond. He was at the park, the park where he first broke up with you, and it was silent. Everything seemed plain, empty. 

Why was it that when you were here with him, everything sparkled? Why was it that even as you cried, the world was vibrant and full of life? And lastly, why did everything feel so dull without you?

8:25, read the clock on his phone. His lockscreen was still a picture of you, smiling and laughing and shining. He missed you. But no, he can't, he won't let his resolve crumble. Not now, not ever. 

"Sans!" He heard your voice call out, and he looked up to see you smiling and waving at him. You had a scarf on, and a black coat, which he recognized as the one he bought a week (well, technically, a month already) ago. Why were you smiling at him? Did he not-- oh. A quick glance at his phone told him he hadn't broken up with you today. He must've forgotten. He waved, a small grin on his face. For some reason, the world seemed brighter. 

He glanced at his phone again. 8:26. 

You crossed the road, eyes still on him, still smiling, still shining, when all of a sudden, there was a car, and you hit the ground. 

His eye sockets widened. Your blood was everywhere, and he watched your soul gently float over your motionless body and shattered. 

8:27. 

The world reset. 

-

His first thought when he woke up was that it wasn't Frisk. His second thought was you. 

Were you doing it on purpose? No, if you knew, then you wouldn't die. You would know better. You wouldn't greet him and smile at him with so much love if you had known all the things he'd done. What was he supposed to do?

He let the next few resets do their thing, observing you. Every time you died, the moment your soul shattered, the world would reset. After gaining all the information he could from that scene, he then spent the next few resets watching Frisk. All the time, Frisk would be doing the same thing, unable to realize that something was going on. The only thing that comvinced him it wasn't Frisk was because they were laughing when 8:27 rolled around before he found himself in bed once more. 

He closed his eye sockets. 

-

Fifty-eight. 

You've already died fifty-eight times. 

Today would be your fifty-ninth death. After all that time, he realized one thing: every time your soul shattered, his would start cracking. After the crack reached the bottom of his soul, the world would reset. An interesting theory he derived from this was that if the world didn't reset every time you died, he would start turning to dust. Not that it mattered, as it only bought him what, half a second before the world reset?

It didn't matter. 

Today, he's going to save you. He's going to save you, and kiss you, and apologize. He's going to do something he's never done before-- interfere. 

He can't believe it took him another series of resets (that you were most likely unaware that you were causing) for him to realize that he loved you still. That even after all this time, he was still in love with you. 

8:24. 

He was standing on the exact same spot that you had seen him on, his magic ready to whisk you both away. 

8:25.

"Sans!" 

Focusing on your soul and his, he performed the most dangerous shortcut he'd ever done and pulled you both through the void. 

Light flooded your senses, and you felt Sans wrap his arms around you. "Sans?" You whispered, voice muffled by his shirt as he clung to you desperately. "Sans, what's wrong?" 

Your eyes have adjusted, and it took you some time before you realized that you were underground, or more specifically, at their house in Snowdin. You brought your hand to his skull, and another on his back. He was crying. 

8:26. 

He stood up straight, faintly red tears still streaming down his face. His hands moved to cup your face, touching his forehead to yours, closing his eye sockets. "I love you," he rasped, his voice rough and thick with emotion. "I love you."

You smiled. "Sans, I love--"

8:27. 

You took a step back, unknowingly activating a trap. Something pierced your chest, and you saw Sans cry out in horror as you felt your blood stream down your chest. 

Your soul shattered.

-

He woke up in bed again. He just drew you closer, crying silently into your shoulder. This seemed to be the reason you woke up, and you turned to face him, placing your hand on his cheek and a soft smile on your lips. "Hey," you whispered. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "nothing," he tried to play it off. "i love you."

Your eyes seemed to shine. Everything about you seemed to shine, and he loved it. He loved you so much, but he couldn't save you. Why can't he save you? Why?

He watched you roll your eyes and smile comfortingly, pulling him closer. 

Every time he closed his eye sockets he saw you dying, and he could still hear your voice whispering his name seconds before you died. The most recent one was the worst, with your blood on his clothes and his face, and a terrified, confused look in your eyes. 

He looked at the clock on the bedside table. 6:30 AM. 

He had time.

-

He had too much time.

You've died one hundred and three times. He can't save you- not matter what he does, you always die at 8:27. No matter where he takes you, your soul shatters at exactly 8:27 pm. He can't. He feels so tired. 

On this day, he doesn't do anything to stop it. He stayed with you the whole time, making you breakfast, hugging you while you were turned around, kissing you while you weren't looking. 

In the afternoon, he apologized for being so distant, and promised he'd change. You forgave him and kissed him, which may have led to something more than kissing, heh. When you told him you wanted to take a walk at seven in the evening, he said he'd go with you, keeping you within his line of sight the whole time. 

The one moment he looked away, you fell to the ground, blood pooling around you quickly. A quick assessment of the environment told him it was a stray bullet, and as he moved to wrap his arms around you, a crowd of people had already gathered, all calling the police. 

You were smiling, looking at him like he was your sun and your stars, your light, your anchor, your everything. You were saying something, but he couldn't hear you. Something dropped onto your cheek. His tears? When had he started crying?

You reached up to wipe his tears, your hand warm and alive, and he can't believe that in a few more minutes you'll be cold and gone and lifeless please no he can't he can't lose you please no please-

You moved your hand to his chest and mouthed, breathe. 

Breathe. 

Sirens? Why was it so loud-

"Sir, please let go of her! We need to get to the hospital!" 

He held her tighter. 

"SANS!"

Papyrus?

Something hit the back of his head. The world turned to black. 

8:28. 

-

He woke up in a pale hallway. 

Papyrus was sitting beside him, still as a statue. There was a slight ache at the back of his head, and his vision was hazy. There was a clock in front of him. It read 11:33 pm. 

He cried of relief. 

-

Papyrus later explained that you were still in the middle of surgery, and that you had at least a seventy percent chance of survival. 

Seventy percent. He'll take it any day. 

The clock now read 12:04 pm. It's been a long time since he last saw midnight. He stands up and walks outside and looks at the stars. They remind him of you. 

For the first time in his life, he prayed. 

He prayed to anyone listening, and asked, begged them to save you. 

If anyone thought that a skeleton crying in the middle of the parking lot was strange, they said nothing. 

-

Frisk came by with Toriel some time in the morning. The surgery was already over, and at this point, it was all just a waiting game. He saw you lying on the hospital bed, pale and patched up, but alive. He never thought he'd be this happy over seeing you breathing. 

Frisk was ten years old now, and though they were young, their eyes held a sense of maturity that he was sure was caused by the resets. He should feel strange that he, a twenty-seven year old monster, considers this child as one of his closest friends, but he doesn't. After all, they've known each other for so much more longer than anyone else did. 

He told them of the loads you had caused and how you were unaware of them. Frisk's theory was that while you were determined, you weren't determined enough. This most likely comtributed to the fact that you didn't remember, because your loads only went halfway. 

_why would she be determined to come back?_ He'd asked. 

_Well,_ Frisk paused, pouting a little bit. _She loves you. And when you love someone and you have to leave, you'd want to say goodbye to them first. Maybe she wanted to see you one more time._

Frisk left with Toriel soon afterwards, saying that they still had school to attend. The butterscotch pie they left remained untouched; he wanted you to have it. You always wanted to try Toriel's cooking, but there was never a chance for you to do so. 

_There,_ he thought. _Now you have to come back. Now you have to wake up._

When the doctors said you might not wake up anytime soon, he cried again. 

-

It was May now. 

For him, it was April 29 for a very long time. He still finds it strange (and a little bit unfair) that time now moved forward even without you. 

It's been a week, and you still haven't woken up. He hasn't lost hope. 

He wants, no, he needs you to wake up. He needs to hold you, and kiss you and wake up with you and stars, he missed you. 

Why won't you wake up?

-

It was almost June by the time you woke up.

He was moping around in your hospital room, talking to you as if you could hear him (don't judge-- a nurse told him that sometimes, the patient actually hears the words that everyone else says. He thought you might be worried about how everyone was doing like you always were.) and occasionally taking a break to eat his burger.

 

He always brought food for two, just in case you woke up and realized you were hungry. If you didn't, well, aside for his disappointment, it would be fine, since y'know, more for him. Still he found himself hoping you'd wake up and eat the other burger, his own hunger be damned. 

He continued his tale on how Alphys was trying to convince him to work with her in the lab again, laughing to himself because honestly, as long as you were stuck in this room, he wasn't going anywhere else. Then he moved on to tell you about Papyrus' second year at culinary school, and how every week, the food got increasingly fancy. At this point, he could probably sell his meal for a hundred dollars, and people would tip him more. "maybe i should ask boss to consider opening a restaurant," he mused, fiddling with your hand. 

"Probably," you replied, eyes only barely opened, and a smile on your lips. Your voice was raspy from disuse, but your resounding laugh was as magical as ever. "Hello, Sans."

He grinned, his grip on your hand growing tighter by the second.

"hello, sweetheart."


End file.
